Patton was now completely out of the view of the guard force and he began to close the distance with the tent. He fished the two grenades out and examined them in the dull glow of the fire. They were perfectly round, a dull brownish-yellow color, with a button instead of a pin and lever. When activated, the grenade would explode like any other, but with the composite material instead of metal as the casing, the blast wouldn’t be deadly. Instead, anyone within the blast radius would be knocked out and possibly receive some cuts and bruises.
And that’s the way Patton wanted it to be. He was an enemy to these people, but he didn’t consider them his enemies. The more that he could incapacitate Asher’s people without killing them, the less likely they would be to hunt him. More importantly, he didn’t want to give the government any fodder for propaganda against him.
Patton approached the first tent, depressing the button on one of the grenades while he moved. He reached the flap of the tent and tossed the grenade as close to the middle of it as he could. Before it went off, he had already depressed the button on the second grenade. After tossing the second grenade, Patton sprinted away. Before he could reach the spot he’d approached from, he heard and felt one explosion and then another. He turned back to watch the guards’ reactions to the detonations. The one closest to the tents was knocked off his feet, almost landing in the fire. The other guard brought his rifle to the ready and pointed it towards the tents. Patton raised his own rifle, sighted in the man’s back, and pulled the trigger. His target arched in pain and fell to the ground, writhing around, trying to catch his breath.
With everyone seemingly incapacitated, Patton approached the camp, rifle at the ready, prepared to shoot at anything that moved. When he was within twenty yards, a man stumbled out, holding his face in his hands, bleeding from what must have been a gash.
Patton increased his pace and yelled, “Get down! Get down now!”
The man was too stunned by the blast to follow Patton’s orders, so he just staggered out towards the fire. When Patton reached him he slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s head, knocking him out cold. He looked up and surveyed the rest of the damage. He could hear moans and groans from inside both tents, but no one else emerged. Patton waited. When no one else exited the tents, he grimaced at the carnage, angry at what David Asher had forced him to do. Patton had won this little skirmish, taking down ten men with no fatalities. Of that last fact he was very glad, but he was sure he was going to have to deal death at some point.
By dawn, Patton had all but two of the search team flex-cuffed and in the two vehicles. He left the hands and legs of two of the search team so that they could drive the rest of the men back into town. All had been injured in some way—the man he’d shot in the back definitely had a broken rib or two. Three or four of the others had concussions, and everyone had a laceration of some sort.
Before sending the vehicles away, Patton warned the men that he wouldn’t use his toys next time they came after him—instead, he would kill them. The tougher ones scoffed at him, but he could tell his message made a few of the others nervous. He was sure that many would quit their new line of work rather than try to hunt down a man that was outmanned ten-to-one and had still beaten them.
Patton made his point by reloading his rifle with lethal bullets. He kept his rifle pointed at the vehicles until they were out of sight. Once gone, Patton made his way back to his temporary camp underneath the outcropping of rock. Every ten steps or so, Patton turned back to make sure the search party hadn’t doubled back. Satisfied that they were on their way back to town, Patton double-timed it to his camp to rest up.
The old Delta Force warrior’s training and instincts were returning now. His senses were at their fullest height. By dusk, Patton was convinced there would be no second search party—at least that day. Asher was probably trying to put together a new team, and most likely having a difficult time doing so.
When full dark shrouded the valley, Patton geared up and again made his way towards the prison complex, which was north from his current position. He suddenly wished he had his night vision goggles because the ground ahead of him was going to be very tough. Instead, he let his eyes adjust to the dark. There was enough moon and starlight to guide his way.
By midnight, after trudging slowly over the terrain, Patton was halfway to his destination. He silently wished that he had the blueprints for the prison, but they had never been posted anywhere online. He was going to have to rely on his training and experience to come up with a plan for his incursion into the prison. That meant that he was going to have to spend a day scouting out the prison and its surroundings. This, in turn, meant that he was going to risk the chance at being spotted. He would have to get to the prison before dawn and find a good hiding spot.
Patton hefted and readjusted the pack on his shoulders. He groaned with pain and discomfort. He put his head down and started making his way to the place where his wife was being held hostage.
“And then he just let you go?” the woman asked incredulously, dabbing at the gash on her husband’s forehead.
He nodded, shuddering at the memory of the rifle being pointed at him. The man wielding the weapon was obviously Patton Larsen. Larsen had the chance to kill him, but for some reason, he didn’t pull the trigger. Why?
When Larsen fled the city, his face had been plastered everywhere. Hatterly, who was brand new to the Blue Creek City Security Service, had been selected to go out with the first search party. When he applied for the job, which had been one of very few available in town, he thought that he would drive around in a patrol car, writing tickets, stuff like that. Now though, he realized that he was part of David Asher’s secret police. After the incident the previous night, he thought he might be better off unemployed.
“Yeah,” Hatterly said, a sullen look on his face, “He cuffed us up and told Mike and Randy to help us into the trucks. He had us dead to rights but just let us go.”
Hatterly’s wife shook her head. Not just at the fact that her husband had been as close to death as he’d ever been, but because Patton Larsen – supposedly a monster – had just let him go.
“We’ve got to get this story out there,” she said, still dabbing at her husband’s head with a washcloth. “People need to know what’s going on.”
The man looked at his wife, shocked at her naiveté.
“Honey,” he said, a pleading look on his face, “don’t you know what’s going on here?”
Her eyes opened wide with surprise at the expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
He looked around the room conspiratorially and then leaned in close to her. “Baby, we’re practically living in a police state and I’m part of it. David Asher has taken control of everything and everyone in this town. No one can leave. People that are speaking out against him are being arrested. If you spread what happened last night around town, you’re going to be arrested.”
She turned away from him, tears stinging at her eyes. She grabbed his forearm, looking for any strength that he could give to her. Instead, when she looked in his eyes, she saw nothing but fear—fear in the eyes of the man who’d she’d always considered to be so strong. Despite the danger, Ashley Hatterly felt that news of what happened to her husband and nine other husbands, had to get out. People in Blue Creek needed to know that their true enemy wasn’t Patton Larsen, it was the man who professed to be their leader.
Patton must have underestimated his own marching speed because he reached the prison complex an hour earlier than his projections. The complex was built in the middle of the bowl-shaped depression in the hillside. Much of the geographical feature was natural, but to build the prison as large as was needed, more ground was excavated.
Patton was at the southern edge of the bowl now, looking down into the depression with his binoculars. He had a large, dry bush on his left and a large boulder behind him to keep him hidden from prying eyes. From
this vantage point he could see the entire rear of the complex and what looked to be a temporary structure in the middle of a large field. It was roughly the size of a soccer pitch, but more square than rectangular.
As the day progressed, Patton became familiar with the guards’ patrol patterns and he scouted out the security features. In many places, the security was tight, with lights, finished fencing, and good sightlines between what had to be a guard post at the rear of the main structure and the temporary structure in the middle of the field. The more he looked, however, the more flaws he found. The field was uneven, which would allow for him to approach the structure from many angles. Secondly, the guard force was obviously poorly trained. There were no dogs, and when darkness began to fall, Patton noticed that much of the lighting system had not been completed yet. He hunkered down and slept for a few hours, waiting for full dark.
Around midnight a storm blew in, bringing with it a light and cold rain. It was uncomfortable, but bad weather made people complacent. While Patton would rather be at the beach, taking in the warm sun and water, he was comfortable in these conditions. He would strike at four in the morning, when the guard shift was about to reach its most tired phase. Also, it would give him enough dark to get down into the building, try to find his wife, and then get back out.
David Asher stared at the ceiling of his new bedroom, in the new mansion the people of Blue Creek had built for him. The woman beside him was snoring. He grimaced and turned away from her to his side. It was funny how the most gorgeous women in the world often had some of the worst private habits, especially when they were comfortable with someone.
There were so many things on his mind he couldn’t concentrate on anything. Rumors of the failed search party spread like wildfire through town. The rumor was that Patton Larsen had taken on ten men and beaten them. Not only that, he’d done it in a way where no one was seriously harmed—all sent home to Blue Creek to tell everyone just how merciful the fugitive was. Asher scoffed at that. He knew that Larsen had to be behind the disappearance of both Travis and Brian, the two men that he’d desperately needed to keep things running after taking out his rivals Charlie and Anna. Neither of them were around when he needed them most.
Supposedly the most powerful man in town, David Asher felt impotent—incapable of handling his business. No doubt he was becoming a laughing stock, and with these new rumors about Patton Larsen, he was beginning to feel it slip away from him. He cursed Anna under his breath. Why did she have to betray him? Why did she have to plot to remove him from power when his use was gone? Didn’t they have a good thing going?
It must have been the old man that had poisoned her against him. Part of him knew, however, that Anna probably planned to remove him the entire time. She’d been so good at using her body to get what she wanted. No matter, though. She was gone for good. He just wished he had her around for some advice right now because he really needed it.
The two guards were supposed to circle the field that surrounded the temporary structure and maintain the same distance between them at all times. These two, however, must have gotten bored and decided to walk together so they could talk and entertain themselves through the last couple hours of their shift. They passed in front of Patton, headed east. They then turned north for a football field’s length. When they made their turn, Patton made his move. He was carrying both his rifle and his pistol with both lethal and non-lethal ammunition. He really didn’t want to kill anybody, but if faced with the choice between his own life and theirs, he would choose his own.
He struggled to remain quiet while sliding down the hill. The rocks were slick now, and tended to roll when Patton contacted them with his boots. When he reached the bottom, Patton stopped to make sure the guards were still moving away from him. They were still facing away so he sprinted to the structure. The distance was about fifty yards, but he made it quickly. He reached the back of the building and found cover. He checked the guards’ position again. He could see them standing on the far side of the field. At least one of them was smoking.
The door had a simple padlock, which he knew he could defeat in only a few seconds. Patton removed a small block of homemade plastique and mashed it into where the shackle met the body. He inserted a tiny blasting cap, which was attached to a receiver. Patton turned away and activated the detonator. There was a small crack. When he turned back to the door, he found the lock on the ground in several pieces. Before opening the door and entering the structure, Patton looked again to see where the guards were. They were out of sight. He quickly entered the door and closed it behind him.
The door led to a small office, probably used by the guards and nurses. He unlocked the door leading out of the office and cautiously walked through it. He had his pistol held high, loaded with his non-lethal ammunition. He entered a long hallway that had heavy-duty doors on both sides. Above the door to his left hung a sign that read “Men.” A similar sign reading “Women” was to his right. He made his way towards the Women’s side and tried the knob. It was unlocked. He crouched low and walked in as quietly as he could.
There were seven or eight bunk beds on either side. Not all of the beds were occupied—not yet, anyway. Patton sneered in disgust. With every tyrannical government come arbitrary arrests, and crackdowns on what are usually considered natural rights. Patton figured this prison would be full to overflowing with prisoners in a few months. Instead of letting that happen, he was going to empty it.
On the front of each bed was a page holder that displayed the prisoner’s name. Patton made his way up the right side, looking at the names. None said Jennifer or J. Larsen or anything like that. He went the other way, searching the names, but still no luck. As he looked at the name at the last bunk, he hung his head. The disappointment hit him like a kick to the gut. It took him a few moments to collect himself and decide what he should do next. Patton made his way to the woman in the closest bed. She was a blonde who looked to be in her mid-twenties. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She awoke with a gasp. Patton covered her screams with his gloved hand. He whispered in her ear, trying to reassure her that he wouldn’t harm her. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally calmed herself.
“Jennifer Larsen. Where is she?”
Her eyes were still wide with shock. She was still breathing heavily, but she was able to answer him somewhat quietly.
“She’s not here anymore. They moved her inside yesterday.”
A mixture of disappointment washed over him. He was disappointed she wasn’t there, but at least someone had recently seen her. Even though he’d assumed Brian White was trying to throw him off by telling him his wife was dead, a grain of doubt had lodged itself in Patton’s mind. Having a sure knowledge that she was alive gave him better focus.
“What’s your name and why are you here?” he asked her, trying to lighten the mood between them.
She took a deep breath and sat up in her bed. “I’m Ashley Hatterly. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m here. I just called a friend of mine and told her what happened to my husband. He got hurt in an ambush the other night. They were out looking for somebody and the guy got the jump on them.”
A surge of guilt washed over Patton. He knew that he had been somewhat responsible for her being here now and completely responsible for hurting her husband.
“Is he okay?” Patton asked, swallowing hard, not quite sure he wanted to hear her answer.
“Yes,” she nodded, “he got cut up a little, but … hey!” she said loudly, and he had to clamp his hand on her mouth again.
“Shh!” he said harshly. “I need you to be quiet.”
Ashley nodded then took a deep breath when he let go of her face. After a few seconds of catching her breath, she got her courage up again and said, “You’re Patton Larsen.”
Patton looked around the room to make sure than no one else was awake. He turned back to her and nodded. It shouldn’t have been ha
rd for her, he realized. He’d just run for governor and now his image was plastered all over the media.
“Yeah, and I came here to find my wife. Where is she and how many guards are around?”
The woman shrugged, making Patton realize that asking her was pointless. She’d just gotten here the day before. She was still probably in shock from being arrested and put into prison. She wasn’t about to know much. An idea suddenly came to him and he couldn’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to him earlier.
“Do you want to get out of here? Do you feel like you could get away if I let you out?”
The young woman turned away from him and seemed to stare off into space. Tears formed in her eyes and then poured down her cheeks. He’d struck a nerve of some sort, but he wasn’t sure if it was sadness or resolve. Finally, she turned to look him in the eye.
“I want to get out of here. I want to get back to my husband,” she said strongly, leaving him no doubt that she was capable.
Patton nodded and told her to wake everyone and tell them what was happening. If they wanted to escape, they would have to get dressed and be ready in no more than five minutes. Meanwhile, Patton went to the men’s side and woke the prisoners. Once everyone was gathered, he peppered the prisoners with questions. Where was his wife? How many guards were on duty?
A woman told Patton that his wife was inside the permanent prison structure under heavy guard. A man told him there were more guards at the prison recently. Patton figured it was because of his break-in at City Hall and subsequent mauling of Asher’s search party. The next statement changed Patton’s plans altogether.
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